Blood and Kisses

by Shah, Karin

  “There are only a few ways to kill a vampire,” he continued, as if nothing had happened. “Beheading, draining all the blood, and even then, if he makes it to the dawn, the healing sleep will save him. Others, such as destroying the heart through the use of a stake or other instrument, fire, and sunlight, are permanent. Garlic, holy water, crosses,”—he shook his head—“all useless. We can recover from almost any injury, including a broken neck. As for fire, only a complete burn will do. We reflect light, so we do have a reflection. We have amazing vision and hearing. We’re incredibly fast and strong, and some of us can even fly and change our shape.”

  “Can you?”

  Gideon nodded. “I’ve even learned to change my mass. I could be as small as a bat or as large as an elephant.”

  He locked her eyes with his. He had to make her understand exactly what she intended to confront. “A vampire that has gone rogue has nothing left to lose. The Claiming is a madness that poisons the mind. He will use any weapon, mental or physical, to get what he needs. He will lie and cheat and manipulate. He will play on your weaknesses, and he will kill anyone who gets in his way.”

  Chapter 6

  “Let me do the talking,” Thalia said as she slammed the car door and headed up the brick front walkway of one of the Victorian houses that crowded Park Avenue.

  Moths danced in the fuzzy light of a nearby street lamp. Their fluttering wings reflected the light and cast the shadows of their tiny, fragile bodies on the ground.

  The night was warm and sweet. Flowers perfumed the air. Fireflies glowed and faded over the tiny front garden. It seemed impossible that somewhere a killer hunted.

  She caught her heel on a crack, and Gideon put a hand under her elbow to steady her. The touch of his hand on her bare arm stirred her senses, sparking a fire that coursed up her arm and through her body like a bolt of lightening.

  She smoothed her blue silk sundress to regain her composure, but it didn’t help. It only reminded her of Spirit’s surprise when she’d come down wearing the dress. She’d assured him she’d worn the garment because some of the older witches were conservative in matters of dress. He hadn’t said a word, but she could tell he hadn’t believed her. Why should he? She hadn’t believed it herself.

  She had dressed for Gideon.

  She might not be pretty, but she was proud of her body. She couldn’t help wanting his approval.

  Gideon fell silently into step with her, his aspect dark and closed. He dropped her elbow and put his hands in his pockets, but Thalia got the sense that he was on high alert and could spring into action in seconds should the need arise. It was rather like taking a pet leopard for a walk. She scanned the flawless lines of his face under the cover of her lashes.

  He turned to her, onyx eyes glinting. Scratch that, Gideon was no one’s pet.

  “These houses are beautiful, aren’t they?” she said, following some inner need to banish the heavy quiet that had descended over them. She indicated the string of elegant, well-maintained hundred-year-old houses with her head.

  Gideon shrugged, a gleam in his eye. “I don’t care much for new construction.”

  A smile spilt Thalia’s face. He was joking. Who knew he had a sense of humor? “Yeah, well, for you the pyramids are probably new construction.” They shared the smile for a moment, and Thalia realized she had never seen him smile. It lightened his face, making him even more stunningly attractive.

  Something fluttered in her stomach, butterflies that had nothing to do with nerves. She sucked in a gulp of night air. She had to stop thinking of him in that way. This was just business, and he was just a different kind of consultant. There was no way it could be anything else.

  As they climbed the dark green wooden steps that led to the porch, the frosted glass-paneled door opened. A tall man wearing a tan T-shirt and brown khaki shorts stood in the doorway. He was completely bald with a neat, close-trimmed salt-and-pepper beard, mustache, and olive skin. He stepped back, inviting them in. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  “Heath Gordon, this is Gideon Damek,” Thalia introduced as they stepped inside.

  Heath led them into the front parlor. The centerpiece of the room, a large fireplace with a sculpted marble mantle, was flanked by a loveseat, couch and chair suite in distressed brown leather. “Please have a seat.”

  “You know why we’re here?” Thalia settled into the overstuffed armchair. Gideon and Heath still stood. Heath reminded her of a terrier challenging a Doberman. She considered standing, but changed her mind. If there was going to be a fight, she might as well have a good seat.

  She fingered the cording that covered the seams of the chair as she waited for Heath’s reply.

  “I read the newspaper,” he said at last, his features stiff, his gaze glued to Gideon, as if Gideon would pounce if he turned away. “I don’t know why you’re bothering to interrogate the magic community when it’s clear a vampire is to blame.” He crossed his arms over his stocky chest.

  Thalia’s eyes flicked between Heath and Gideon. Heath’s hostility was unexpected. He was one of the most respected mages in the community and their relationship had always been good. He’d also been at the bar that night. “Now, Heath—”

  “We’re speaking with anyone who was at the tavern that night. Vampire or witch.” Gideon’s rich voice seemed to fill the small room. Most mortals would have been hard-pressed to maintain their animosity in the face of that heavenly voice, but Heath was apparently made of sterner stuff.

  “We prefer mage, or sorcerer. Witch has such a negative connotation.” Heath rocked back on his heels.

  Thalia was taken aback by Heath’s sudden pomposity. She never gave a thought to using the word witch.

  She sent a mental apology in Gideon’s direction.

  There’s no need to apologize. He’s acting out of fear.

  As she received Gideon’s response in her head, Thalia let her eyes widen questioningly. You can hear my thoughts? she sent back.

  I’d always heard it was impossible to read the thoughts of witches, but I could hear you clearly when the thought was directed toward me. The mage’s thoughts are closed to me. However, I can smell his fear.

  Thalia turned her attention back to Heath. “All we want to know is if you saw Lily the night of her murder? Or if you’ve heard anything from someone who did?”

  Heath shook his head. The light from the chandelier reflected off his tanned scalp. “I saw Lily when she came in, but I never saw her leave. As for hearing anything, I can’t say I have...exactly.”

  Thalia leaned forward, her fingers digging into the fabric-covered arm. “What do you mean?”

  He paused, as if reluctant to speak. “I don’t know if it has anything to do with the murders, but there has been an increase in bad omens, and there’s talk of something coming, something evil.”

  “Why am I just hearing about this now?” Thalia had always been the first to hear about anything of this nature. A feeling of disquiet sparked in her stomach.

  Heath avoided her eyes. “It’s nothing specific. Just rumors. They started a few days ago.” Right around the time that Lily died.

  Thalia let the subject drop and got to her feet. Clearly, he’d told her as much as he was going to. “Thank you for your time, Heath. Keep your eyes open. Whoever is responsible for these murders, I don’t think he’s done. He may not be able to feed on mages, but I doubt he’d hesitate to kill one, if he got in his way. If you should think of anything else, or hear any more rumors, I expect you to let me know immediately.” Thalia let a hint of magic creep into her voice, turning the words from a suggestion into a command. She was the Champion and keeping secrets from her was more than just ill-considered; it was dangerous.

  After he saw them out, Heath paced for a moment, then went to the telephone. He dialed, tapping his sandaled foot while the line connected.

  “Hello?”

  “It’s Heath. I thought you should know, the Champion was just here. She had that vampire with her
.” Distaste tinged his voice.

  “As expected.” The soft female voice on the other end was calm and even. “You told her about the omens?”

  “It was necessary.” Heath rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s bound to find out and wonder why I hadn’t mentioned them. Her powers may be weak, but she uses what she has wisely,” he said grudgingly.

  “Yes.” There was a weighty silence, before the woman continued, “But can she handle what’s coming?”

  Heath took a deep breath. The rumors and Thalia’s preoccupation with Lily’s death had given him a long awaited opportunity. He hoped his proposal would be well-received. “I don’t think we should wait to find out.”

  Chapter 7

  Thalia slid into the seat of Gideon’s car and pulled out the list of witches she’d compiled. Before she could open it, her cell phone rang. She glanced at Gideon as she flipped it open. “Hello?”

  “Thalia? It’s Ursula.” Thalia sat straighter in her seat. Ursula was a local psychic who had helped her in cases before.

  “Ursula? I thought you were out of town.”

  “Something called me back early. I heard about Lily. Maybe I can help.”

  The ancient smiled as he closed the cell phone. He stepped over the blonde’s body, kicked her legs inside the closet, and closed the door. He walked over to the hall mirror and focused his mind. His features blurred and melted before reforming. Leaning forward, he checked his make-up, fluffed his newly blond hair. Perfect. He’d have the Butcher and the witch exactly where he wanted them.

  Minutes later, Thalia and Gideon pulled up outside a small contemporary ranch. A pink neon sign in the window read, Psychic Readings. Some pains had been taken to soften the uncompromisingly linear façade of the house, mounds of purple and pink petunias lined the drive, ivy clung to the blond brick above the foundation. A fledgling clematis grew up a small trellis beside the front door.

  Ursula met them on the concrete stoop. Slender, blonde, and young, she had a trendy razored haircut and shiny red lips that curved up at the sight of Gideon. She barely looked at Thalia.

  “Who’s your friend, Thalia?” she said, offering Gideon a dainty hand and a seductive look, her mascara-covered lashes lowered coyly over tilted green eyes.

  “Ursula Grant, this is Gideon Damek. Gideon, Ursula.” Thalia damned the stiff sound of her voice. “He’s a vampire,” she felt compelled to add, but Ursula’s smile didn’t dim. Why should it? Despite her psychic talent, Ursula was totally and completely a petty.

  “I think I’ve seen you at the B.B. and C.,” Ursula purred. She linked her purple silk-clad arm with Gideon’s and led him into the house, the high heels of her shoes clicking on the ceramic tile floor.

  A pile of luggage, evidence of Ursula’s recent return, sat in the foyer, blocking the bi-fold doors of what Thalia figured was a coat closet. The lights were low and scented candles burned everywhere. Thalia wrinkled her nose. The overpowering perfume of so many candles in such a small house made her head ache.

  She followed Gideon and Ursula down a short hall. Both tall, they made a charming picture as they walked along, Ursula so pretty and fair, and Gideon so dark. Thalia wondered what she looked like when she stood next to him. A strange, sick sensation she refused to acknowledge burned in her chest.

  Ursula’s kitchen was small and neat, little more than a galley kitchen with a diminutive table shoved up against the far wall and three nineteen fifties diner-style chairs.

  Ursula showed them to the table and pulled out a seat for herself. The rubber tips on the metal legs of her chair caught and squeaked against the linoleum floor. “I don’t usually do readings outside of business hours,” she said, slanting a sidelong look at Gideon who reclined in his chair, one ankle resting on his knee. His ebony eyes focused neutrally on her face. “But under the circumstances...”

  Thalia wondered if the circumstances had to do with the fact that there had been two murders, or that Gideon was her client. Ursula seemed different tonight. The psychic seemed just a bit too glossy, a bit too hard, a bit too...hungry. She smothered a sigh, angry with herself for being catty, and faked a smile with some effort. “Thank you for accommodating us. Can we begin?”

  Ursula’s smile slipped. Her tone became more business-like. She folded her hands. “Certainly. I don’t usually contact people I knew in life, so before we try, you’re aware we might not able to reach either victim? There’s no telling who might come through.”

  Thalia nodded.

  Ursula nodded back. “And even if we do get someone pertinent, there’s no guarantee they’ll tell you what you want to know.”

  Thalia nodded again, anxious to begin.

  “Very well.” Ursula took a deep, cleansing breath and closed her catlike eyes. She placed her hands palm upward on her knees yoga fashion. Thalia rolled her eyes. Ursula was a gifted psychic, but she tended toward the melodramatic.

  The ticking of kitchen clock grew louder and louder in the silence. Finally, Ursula spoke. “I’m getting a young woman about your age. I think it’s Lily. She is showing me...” Ursula licked her red lips and began to breathe heavily. Her head rolled back to expose the vulnerable hollow of her throat. Her heart was beating so fiercely Thalia could see the pulse throbbing in her neck. Ursula laid one manicured hand on her damp forehead. “She’s showing me a handsome dark-haired man. I don’t recognize him. He meets her outside the B.B. and C. She’s unable to resist him. She doesn’t want to resist him. Oh.” Ursula shuddered. Her painted eyelids fluttered and she placed a hand to her throat. “The pleasure. I...” Her face flushed and she sucked in a deep breath, visibly struggling to maintain her composure. She came back to herself and opened her eyes, revealing widely dilated pupils. “I’m sorry. I’ve never been drawn in that way. Usually, all I get is pictures and impressions.” She fanned herself and settled back to try again, resuming her former posture. “Now I’m getting a picture of another woman. Lily is stepping back and bringing your mother through.”

  Thalia caught her breath. “My mother?” Her eyes went to Gideon. He met her gaze without expression, the lines of his face giving no clue to his thoughts.

  Ursula continued after a tiny pause, as if listening. “She’s asking me to warn you. Something about a prophecy? Does that make sense?”

  Thalia scanned her memory. Prophecy? She shook her head. The world of magic was full of future portents, predictions, prophecies and omens, but her mother had never mentioned any specific prophecy. Then she remembered her mother’s final words. Was this prophecy the reason her mother had wanted her to seek out Gideon?

  Ursula gave a sudden wheeze of surprise and her body stiffened. “Thalia?” The voice emanating from Ursula was low and mature, clearly not hers, and both familiar and infinitely precious to Thalia.

  “Mom?” Thalia’s voice was little more than a whisper.

  “I don’t have much time. I’m taking too much energy from this body,” her mother said. “Go to my book. You’ll find the prophecy there. You’re in grave danger. Keep Gideon with you, and don’t forget to rely on Spirit. Most of all, believe in yourself. Remember we love you.” Her mother’s tender voice faded, Ursula’s face grew slack, and Thalia knew her mother was gone.

  Tears stung her eyes. It was too much and far too little. There was so much more she wanted to know. To bathe in the warmth of her mother’s presence for such a brief moment in time, only to have her slip away before she could absorb the reality of it, was like losing her all over again.

  Ursula slumped, a marionette discarded by an absent puppeteer. She raised her other hand slowly to her head, and Thalia could tell the other woman fought a headache. “That’s never happened before.” Beneath her light film of make-up, her face was paper-white. “And I hope it never happens again.”

  Thalia stood. “I’m so sorry.”

  Ursula waved away her apology with a weak hand and shook her head. “Despite what you see in the movies, that never happens. It’s clear that whatever is going on
is more than just a simple rogue vampire. I got a feeling of intense dread, a sense of foreboding so deep it made it hard to breathe. We’re all in great danger. As for me, I think for the time being, I’ll stay away from the Bell, Book, and Candle.”

  Kill them now. So much anger and hatred wracked his body, he was surprised the Butcher couldn’t sense it. Gods, he wanted to end it, to see his enemy broken and destroyed.

  He could do it now. It would be so easy to kill them. Gideon was so obsessed with fighting his attraction to the little witch, no doubt he could have stood before him in his true form and the Butcher wouldn’t bat an eye. The aching, burning sensation began in his fingertips as claws transformed his fingernails. He hid his hands behind his back and took a breath, mastering his rage.

  No. Killing them now would ruin everything. He had to keep to the plan.

  He escorted them out the door and watched as they sped away. There was no need to follow. He knew where they were going. He’d planned a little welcome home party for the witch. Soon, he promised himself, soon.

  Gideon pressed his lips into a grim line as he tore into Thalia’s narrow driveway, and braked, the car’s front tires spitting loose stones. “Get the book and pack some more things.” This whole situation just kept getting better and better.

  Thalia’s soft mouth opened and closed without a sound. She studied him for a moment, raking him with worried eyes, then nodded and disappeared into the house.

  He drilled the steering wheel with his fingers as he waited. How could he protect her? He’d already proven he couldn’t be trusted around her.

  But who was he to argue with the other side?

  Is that the reason you want her near, the monster scoffed, to protect her?

  He remembered again the feel of her body against his. The pliant softness of her breasts against the wall of his chest, the heat of her mouth. He felt himself harden and the exquisite pain of his fangs extending.